


This wretched man

by Booker_DeShit



Series: Booker_DeShit's One-shots [9]
Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Autistic Booker DeWitt, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Sad, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Wordcount: 100-500, this isnt happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22290724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booker_DeShit/pseuds/Booker_DeShit
Summary: Booker DeWitt has the world's most wretched man under his gun. A lier, a killer, a deceiver. But is he prepared to pull the trigger.
Series: Booker_DeShit's One-shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434427
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	This wretched man

Booker pressed the gun tightly to the man’s head, to his right temple, in a way near impossible to dislodge. And yet, he hesitated. Why couldn’t he kill this man? He had killed so many innocent & good people before, both men & women, adults & children. Yet he couldn’t kill this one wretched man. This wretched man that killed & hurt, lied & deceived. He couldn’t kill this man that begged to be killed, that had nothing more to live for. But Booker couldn’t kill this man. Every time he tried, begun pulling on the trigger, something held him back. This man that had ruined the lives of so many people, including his own. The man who had broken up families, who had broken so many people. But Booker was still scared, still scared to pull the trigger, even if he knew this was the good thing to do. He knew that the world would be a better place without this monster, they would be better off without this demon. Better off without the killer that sat under his gun. It was Booker’s gun that could kill him, Booker’s gun that should kill him. Even if he was scared, even if he was sick of killing & of death, Booker knew that it was his gun that would end this monster.

Booker took a deep, shaky breath, stilled his hammering heart & trembling hands. Then he pulled the trigger, & the gunshot sounded in the empty room. A puddle of blood spread across the floorboards of Booker’s office, seeping into the cracks, staining the wood red. The gun fell out of his hand, resting beside the corpse. Eyes, lifeless yet brimming with tears stared at the locked door. This wretched man, this monster that hurt & lied & deceived, was dead. 


End file.
